Tainted But Beautiful

Part 3: The Renegades

23. Immortal

Pairings: AkuZeku, Zemyx, AkuRoku, AxDem, minor onesided VexZex, XemSaix

Rated: M

Warnings: Vampires, vampires, vampires...uh, yaoi, AU-ish-ness, abuse, noncon, rape, graphic scenes, character death, overall weirdness.

Summary: Axel is a powerful vampire slayer who's captured Zexion, a vampire, as his pet. What Axel doesn't bargain on is Demyx, his former student, developing a strong attraction to Zexion...

Notes: Holy update, Batman!

Yes, this is proof that I have not in fact died. However, I can't promise any more updates soon because school has started and brought with it the predictable onslaught of homework. All the same, the story is on its home stretch and I can promise that I will definitely finish it, since I have a pretty good idea where I want to go from here on out.

This chapter focuses more on Zexion's backstory, and yes, contains that wonderful lover's spat. I'm very fond of it because it turned out almost exactly as I'd envisioned it, if not even better--I hadn't planned for the argument to be as vitriolic as it ended up being, and I'm glad it turned out that way. But enough babbling--see (or is it read?) for yourselves.

Later that afternoon, as the sunset cast blood-red, substanceless beams through the manor windows, Demyx found Zexion in the library.

The incubus was perched on the edge of a table surrounded by a wall of bookshelves, ignoring the chairs neatly tucked under the table. Several heavy books were arranged in neat stacks on the table, their dull leather bindings scuffed and faded with age. A few lay open, yellowing pages fluttering gently in the faint breeze from the air conditioner.

Zexion wasn't reading, however. He'd drawn his knees to his chest and was gazing at something small in his hand, his head lowered so Demyx couldn't see his gaze. Nor could he see what it was Zexion was looking at...but he had the strange feeling that he'd intruded into something private. He almost made to walk away and go about his business--it was about dinner time, anyway, but Zexion's voice, quiet as a winter breeze, snapped through the silence:

"Demyx."

It was all Demyx could do to keep himself from jumping up in surprise. Nervously, he crept out from behind the bookshelf and started walking over to the silent vampire, his heart thudding thoug he didn't know why. But again, there was the feeling of intrusion...

"Er, yeah?" he said, drawing himself up a seat beside Zexion. Zexion shifted so Demyx couldn't see whatever it was he held in his hand.

"Why did you come here?" said Zexion, not looking at him. "Do you have any news on Axel?"

"Huh? Oh...um, no," said Demyx. And this was the truth--ever since that morning he'd heard nothing from Axel. It seemed Axel had locked himself in his room and was pacing around muttering, which really wasn't odd behavior coming from Axel. Roxas had been laying low, too; Demyx could only assume that Axel was still sticking to his stubborn position of not giving them help because he thought they were just trying to commit suicide.

Which isn't entirely far off, you know, that sardonic voice in his head said. He quickly shoved it aside.

"Disappointing," sighed Zexion, shaking his head. "I assume, then, that he still refuses to help us."

"He's got a bit of a point, you know," said Demyx. "I mean--there are only four of us, and I mean, you're smart enough to know that we don't stand much of a chance against the entire Coven of Thirteen."

"I know that more than anyone," said Zexion with a hollow little laugh, tugging at the collar of his shirt--near where the symbol of his coven was etched, Demyx remembered.

"Then why?" he said. "Why do you wanna fight Xemnas, if you know there isn't--I mean--if you know we're outmatched?"

"Because...I don't know." Zexion gazed distantly at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the table. "Perhaps it's because...I want to do something reckless."

"Reckless?"

"Yes. I...you do not understand. I have been--my entire life--protected. Always. First by others, then by myself. I was never willing to do anything that held the slightest taint of danger to it. Seeking out targets who could not fight back...scampering every time a fight might have broken out. And even before I became a vampire, I was being coddled, hidden from the world--"

Hold on. Something Zexion had said captured Demyx's attention, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle--but he couldn't place it, not exactly.

"So you see...this time...I feel like...it is idiotic, I know, but I want to be able to do something dangerous. For the first time in all the years that I have existed. I want to do something big and grand and daring and utterly insane."

Demyx wasn't really paying attention--he was sifting through Zexion's earlier words, trying to pinpoint what had troubled him so much. Something...there was something he said...

He caught it in a flash.

"Before..." he said quietly; Zexion blinked at him, looking bored. "Before you became a vampire?"

"Ah. Did I say that?" said Zexion in an infuriatingly casual tone, turning to the side so that Demyx could only see the side of his face hidden by his fringe. "My, my, slips of tongue are very troublesome..."

"Cut the crap, Zexion!" yelled Demyx, standing up so he could loom above the incubus. "Answer my question--you said something about before you became a vampire?"

"Yes, I believe I did," said Zexion loftily, examining his claws. "What of it?"

"Hey, don't dance around it!" said Demyx. "What do you mean by that? I thought you're a pureblood vampire..."

Zexion gave Demyx a look that could only be described as helpless. "I am."

"Then what's this about before you were a vampire?" said Demyx. "Seems to me that you were once human...but that can't be possible. You're definitely not a made vampire..."

Dimly, Demyx sensed yet another upcoming revelation. He didn't know whether he welcomed it or dreaded it.

"No, I am not," said Zexion. The irritated quality had slipped out of his voice, however, to be replaced by something--hesitant? He continued to keep his eyes averted from Demyx. "Listen...this...this is something you are not supposed to know."

A wave of irritation lanced through Demyx, though he forced it down. How many times in the past few days had he been told that? "Look, I already know more about vampires and slayers than any human slayer already. What would it hurt for me to find out a little bit more?"

"I suppose..." sighed Zexion. "I...I do not know...I mean...that is to say...I have told this story to no one. Not even to the Superior."

He sounded so hesitant, so scared, almost, that Demyx wanted to throw his arms around Zexion and pull him in an embrace and reassure him that everything would be all right. Yet the sympathy was tempered by something else--something closer to triumph. It was strange to feel that way, he knew, but at the same time...Zexion was going to confide in him something he'd never told anyone. Demyx had long clung to the belief that he was someone special to Zexion, but this was just about confirmation. If Zexion trusted him enough...

Don't be stupid, it's because he slipped up so he now has to explain, thought the nasty voice. Demyx once again had to tell it to shut the hell up. He wondered why the hell it had come back when it hadn't been troubling him for so long.

"First...I suppose I ought to show you this," said Zexion.

"Huh? What?" said Demyx as Zexion extended his hand. The slayer closed the distance between them, leaning over Zexion's outstretched hand to pick up the small object the vampire held. He shivered involuntarily as he scraped his fingers against the cool smooth skin of Zexion's palm--to touch Zexion was still an unsettling experience to him, even though he'd done it so often. He lifted the object in the air to better examine it, spurred on by Zexion nodding.

It was small, metal, and rectangular--a locket. Made of gold that gleamed dully in the dying light.. Demyx flipped open the delicately-engraved cover with an easy motion, to see that the locket held a picture inside. A small black-and-white photograph that was rather blurry with age; still, Demyx could make out the person depicted in the picture. He stared in the solemn dark eyes of a young man--no, a boy, not even as old as he was--with medium-toned hair that framed an angelically-delicate pale face. The boy wore a hat pulled low, and his starched collar and bow tie, and curve of his lapels were barely visible in the image. From the apparent age of the photograph and the way the boy was dressed, Demyx supposed that the picture had been taken around the turn of the last century. Yet there was something strangely familiar about the boy, something that niggled in the back of his mind...

He looked up, meeting Zexion's eyes--eyes as dark and serious as those of the boy in the picture--and realized.

"It's you," he said.

Zexion jerked his head in a nod.

"But..." Demyx forwned as he gazed at the image. "But there's something...different..." It wasn't just the hair and clothes, either. Somehow, even though the teenage boy in the picture looked around the same age that Zexion was physically, he still seemed a little...younger. It was his eyes. They were wider, more curious, lacking the weary and embittered light that currently danced in Zexion's eyes. His cheeks seemed fuller, and his solemnly frowning mouth betrayed no hint of fangs...

"Hold on," said Demyx. "You're not a vampire in this picture..."

"I am not," agreed Zexion. "This was taken approximately a year before I became a vampire."

"But...can you...I don't get it..." groaned Demyx. He felt tired, not just of not getting things, but also of saying those self-same words too often.

"I was born perfectly human, in the year 1896. Seventh and youngest son of a wealthy old-money family in France," said Zexion, his tone soft but carrying the familiar lilt of a lecture. "My family had fallen onto hard times, as they had squandered much of the fortune they'd amassed in years past...when I was fourteen, unable to support their opulent lifestyle any longer, they sent me away. To the home of a countryman, an old family friend, who had managed his fortune more carefully than my family had.

"He was a much older man than me, much more refined and learned than any man I had known before," Zexion continued. "I did not know his name...I simply addressed him as 'Monsieur'. Aside from a few servants, we were the only residents of the manor. It was large and imposing, far larger than the modest country home in which I'd grown up, and I spent my days exploring it. I was particularly drawn to its library. It was...ahh...you probably wouldn't understand." He smiled wryly at Demyx; Demyx stiffened, hearing an insult.

"You liked it," he said, the words coming slow from a tongue that felt heavy and paralyzed, through a head that felt stuffed with cotton. "Is that it? The library..."

"Yes." A smile ghosted across Zexion's face. "I had never encountered a library so large before. To a naive child like me, it seemed to contain every book in the universe. I'd spend days in it, climbing ladders to reach the best books on the top shelves, forgetting to take meals even in my eagerness to absorb every word in every book. Over time, my master noticed. He began to take charge of my education, tutoring me personally.

"He was...a kind man. Any books or clothes or food I wanted--books, mostly--he gave me." Zexion was smiling again, a strange, wistful little half-smile that made him seem years longer. Seeing that smile caused a strange longing to ache in Demyx's chest; he wished he could sympathize with that emotion, but couldn't. "He never raised his hand against me--never raised his voice, either. He trained me into the subtleties and nuances of being a proper French gentleman. I couldn't have asked for a more ideal life.

"I didn't question my life. Why should I? On the outside, it was perfect. I was never in danger because my master's manor was so remote. I had my books and I had my kind master. I was so...so naive and coddled. So idiotic." He shook his head, his smile acquiring a bitter--and more famliar--quality. Demyx breathed easier. "I didn't think to suspect anything odd about my master, either. Such as how he never left his manor...how uncannily pale he was, and how he preferred to keep to the shadows and darkness, and never went out at all when the sun was up..."

Demyx's heart began pounding faster. "Your master...he was a vampire."

"My, you caught on to that quickly," said Zexion.

"Hey," said Demyx, catching on to the insult. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

"Of course--of course you aren't," said Zexion, though his smirk didn't abate. "Much more astute, in any event, than I was back then. I knew about vampires, of course, but didn't think they had anything to do with my life. To this day, I still don't know why my master took me in in the first place...I believe it at first was beacuse of a bizarre, very obscure French custom from medieval ages; something to do with keeping a human in the household for many years, practically raising him...I don't know, it was thought it made the human all the more sweeter for consumption."

Demyx shivered, thinking that it sounded more like an excuse for pedophilia himself.

"I do believe that he truly did come to care for me, otherwise he would never have done that for me..." said Zexion with a sigh. "But I am getting ahead of myself here... For three years, I lived in a world of peace and luxury, my own safe little bubble where the troubles of the outside world would never reach me. Or at least...I thought they would not. But I thought wrong.

"On June 28th, 1914, an event shattered the shallow peace of all of Europe." Zexion met Demyx's eyes, a knowing light dancing across his own eyes, though Demyx couldn't fathom why. "I speak, of course, of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand."

"Franz Ferdinand?" said Demyx cluelessly, thinking of a band. But that couldn't be...

"Yes, the Archduke of Austria," said Zexion, sounding impatient like "why didn't you listen the first time?" Demyx only became even more confused. "Within weeks, what you know as World War I broke out. We called it the 'Great War', then, having never before seen a war of that magnitude and devastation. For the first time, my master and I paid attention to current events, following the tide of the war with horrified fascination.

"My master knew it before I did--the war would spell the end of our peaceful, closed-off existence. As the German army spilled deeper into French borders, my master grew more and more nervous. He worried most about me--I was a young man about the right age for conscription, which is no doubt what the French army would have done to me. He feared the Germans would do worse to me...to him, you must understand, I was the ideal of beauty and purity." Zexion laughed roughly, the sound sending knives crawling under Demyx's skin. "And I was of a sickly constitution. He feared seeing me on the battlefield, or violated as a prisoner of war...

"So he...he did what he thought was the only natural thing. One day, as the German army was only days away, my master took me aside and he...he..."

Zexion had brought a hand to the hollow where his shoulder met his neck and was unconsciously massaging the skin, as if trying to alleviate the pain of an old wound. He paused, taking an inordinately long time to begin speaking again. He seemed at once nervous, excited, and--afraid? Afraid of what? Demyx's disapproval?

"Zexy--" he began, stepping forward to comfort the vampire. Zexion sidestepped him, however, and cleared his throat, continuing his story with only the slightest waver in his voice.

"He...he bit me." He tightened his fingers around the material of his shirt, piercing it with his claws. "Right here. You cannot see the bite now--it is hidden by my coven symbol. I was not--I was not prepared for what happened. For two days, I spent in agony as my body transformed into that of a vampire. When it was over, I was no longer the naive noble boy I had been before, but...but this." He smiled bitterly and gestured at himself. "The incubus Ienzo."

"Huh? What?" Demyx's head had begun spinning again. He felt like Zexion had omitted something crucial in his story... "But I don't geddit..."

"That is not a surprise," said Zexion calmly.

"What! Hey--no--I mean--" sputtered Demyx. "I mean, how can--if a pureblood bites a human, he turns into a vampire, right? But a made vampire."

"That is correct." Zexion looked irritated, but there was something else in his eyes--a nervous anticipation. Demyx couldn't understand why, but it made him tremble inside. Almost as if Zexion wanted to tell him the truth, but was afraid Demyx wouldn't like it...

"B-but--" Demyx continued sputtering. "But you're not made. Definitely not. You're an incubus, dammit, who ever heard of a made incubus--"

Zexion held up a hand, indicating Demyx to shut up. Demyx did so gladly. "It was...in my case...it was different. Something...I do believe it is in the power of every pureblood vampire, but used rarely. And for understandable reasons...the covens do not look kindly on those who increase their ranks through artificial means..."

"What?" Demyx's pent-up confusion exploded over. "Quit dancing around the question, dammit! I want to know how! So cut the crap and tell me."

Was it just his imagination, or did Zexion blanch even paler than his usual shade at his words? Sympathy began spiking in Demyx's stomach, and he had half a mind to apologize for shouting, but Zexion spoke before he could.

"It...ahh...it is something...something called..." Zexion was staring to the side, twisting his fingers together as if he was nervous. "Something called...the 'gift of the immortal'. It is a special--special something a pureblood vampire can administer only once in his life. A bite that transforms a human not into a made brute, but into a fellow pureblood...gifted with all of a pureblood's intellect and powers."

He sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head to clear the hair from his eyes. "Granted, it...it does not produce very high-ranking purebloods...I only became an incubus. Ironic, considering how my master considered me the embodiment of purity..." A pained smirk that looked more like a grimace. "And it leaves the pureblood in question severely weakened for several days...what did in my master in the end. I escaped, and he stayed behind to guard the manor. I can only assume he was staked and burned by the German army..."

Demyx barely had any ears for Zexion now. His heart was pounding, words echoing senselessly in his head: The gift of the immortal... a bite that transorms a human into a fellow pureblood...

"Zexy...this...this 'gift of the immortal'..." he croaked.

"Ah. Yes. That," said Zexion in a brisk manner that strangely reminded Demyx of a lecturing professor. "It...like I said earlier...it is rarely used, and does not have a particularly high success rate...the gift works best on individuals with already...already vampiric predilections. Who have either been exposed to vampires before--as I was, every day--or are darker and more independent in personality..."

Demyx stood listening to Zexion's words, at first uncomprehending, yet feeling a terrible drawing beginning to creep into the edges of his consciousness, looming like the first thin red band of dawn over the horizon, the first swell of a tsunami. His hands began to shake, his blood running cold.

"Zexion..." he said quietly. "You want to...you want to...to give me the gift."

Zexion nodded stiffly, his expression drawn. "If...if you would permit me."

Demyx turned away from the table, throwing his hands in the air and pacing up and down the library's shiny wooden floorboards, his steps echoing in time to the slamming of his heart. His mind felt like a wild mess of swirling emotions, none of them positive.

"You--you can't be serious, Zexion, I mean, what the hell is this--"

Zexion's gaze remained level, his face closed as a blank white wall. "I have given this much thought, Demyx. Don't think I am just throwing it out randomly."

"But why--why? Why would you wanna turn me into a vampire?" Demyx whirled around, facing Zexion accusingly; Zexion remained silent and emotionless. "That's--what kind shit is that?"

"It struck me as...logical," said Zexion slowly, emphasizing each syllable with careful precision. "I...I cannot say what it is I feel about you, except that it is wrong."

"Wrong?" To his shame, his voice cracked on the word.

"Yes," said Zexion, his words coming quicker now. "But it would not be wrong if you were also a vampire. Many vampires take mates for life, we would be no different--"

"Zexion..." Demyx struggled to speak through his rapidly-closing throat; he felt as if his chest was being squeezed with steel bands. "You can't be serious. Me--be a vampire?"

"Yes." Zexion was beginning to sound irritated. "Think about it, Demyx. It would be better--for the both of us. Our relationship would be a legitimate one, and you would be much stronger and faster than you are now. You would not be in as much danger during a fight. And you'd be immortal. Come, what could be so wrong about that?"

"What's wrong about that? What's wrong?" Demyx's voice rose with his hysteria. He leaned close to Zexion, jabbing the incubus in the face with a shaking finger. "I'll tell you what's wrong about that--how 'bout the fact that I'd be a bloodsucking monster?"

Real anger flashed across Zexion's eyes. "How many times have I told you to consider it from my perspective? The idea of vampires being monsters is a human construct. We must feed to survive, and if it's human blood we need for sustenance, then it's only logical--"

"Logical." Demyx hissed the word as a curse. "Listen, Zexion, maybe you don't understand this: I like being human."

"Why?" Zexion's lip curled in a snarl. "Why would you enjoy being a weak sack of mortal flesh and mortal bone? Look at you--you die like flies! Anything--just the slightest tap too hard--is enough to kill you! You're a lot of scampering swine, concerned only with killing each other whether through war or disease, it doesn't matter. How is there even a choice between that and being immortal?"

"Axel's right," said Demyx feverishly, balling his hands into fists. "You don't think things through. You think you're so smart but you're always miscalculating, always misjudging because you're so damn stuck on yourself--"

"Excuse me?" Zexion spat what should have been a polite protest in as vitriolic a tone as he would a swear word. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You haven't thought about the price of your immortality," said Demyx, barely able to speak through his anger. "You have to drink people's blood--kill people--to live. What if I don't want that?"

"You're an idiot," said Zexion, his face becoming blotchy red and his voice lowering into a hiss. "You kill animals and eat them to survive--how is that different for us? Why would you even want to be one of the stupid seething multitude you call humanity? Believe me, the instant you turn, you'll wonder what you ever thought was so great about being human in the first place."

Demyx had never wanted to throttle Zexion more than he did at the moment. He had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep himself from following through on the urge. It was all he could to keep himself from spitting into Zexion's stupid, smarmy vampire face.

"You don't understand," he snarled. "I don't want to be immortal. Maybe you don't get it, 'cause your immortality makes you all high and mighty or something, but you can't see that life is wonderful because it's brief. How--how easy it is to take away. You call that a weakness, and sure, we don't like it either. But it makes us value the days we have left even more."

As he spoke, he straightened and spoke with more and more conviction. He was sure of what he was saying, absolutely sure it was true. Maybe he couldn't back it up with elaborate theories like Zexion could, but he knew it was true in that deep place in the marrow of his bones. He thought about his parents' dead bodies curled on the tenement floor, about the half-made Roxas, about the wild exhilaration he felt every time he fought, knowing that it might be his last fight...

"You don't value life. You can throw it away easy as one two three because who gives a shit, you live forever. You don't know what passion and art and music are," continued Demyx. "Why should it matter if you put your emotions on a canvas or into notes so that your children and grandchildren can understand--you life forever. Hell, you don't even value love. You didn't even know what love was before you met me, did you? Why should it matter if you love anyone when you live forever? That's part of love. Knowing it can walk away from you forever if you don't seize on to it quick enough. But you don't know what 'quick enough' is, because you live forever."

He had no idea what he was saying anymore, yet it made the deepest sort of sense to him. All he had to do was think about Axel, about all the missed opportunities and the pain and that one night, their first and last and best--

"I think you're the one who misunderstands," said Zexion in a heated whisper. "Even you humans agree the best love is the eternal kind. If you are a vampire, then you can--you can love eternally. You will never have to fear me leaving, and vice versa."

"That's not love," spat Demyx. "That's obsession."

"What are you saying?" snapped Zexion, his tone becoming accusing. "You selfish bastard, what are you saying? Are you saying that you want to grow old and wither away and die? And leave me alone? Are you saying that you're happy with that, that you'd gladly do it? For talking about the brevity of human life, you haven't given much thought to what will happen after you die, have you?"

"What...Zexy..." Demyx felt suddenly frozen, his chest cold as if an icy hand was clutching his heart, but his face still burned with the remnants of rage.

"You haven't thought of it," said Zexion, smiling cruelly. "That is fine by me, then. Clearly you don't love me as much as you claim you do."

"Zexy! That's--that's a low blow and you know it!" Demyx protested, but already he knew nothing he could say would displace the horrible, implacable cruelty etched into the lines of Zexion's face, into his twitching smirk.

"I do not care how 'low' it is--it is true. You will grow old. You will become middle-aged, and gray-haired, and wrinkled. And I will stay as young as I have been for the past ninety years. You are lying to yourself if you say you will not tire of me."

"Zexion...I..." said Demyx weakly, his hands shaking. Truthfully...he hadn't thought of it. He'd never thought about the future with Zexion in part because that future was so uncertain. It seemed every day there was a new danger, another obstacle that threatened to tear them apart. And it wasn't as if he was accustomed of thinking about spending a long life with the one he loved, seeing as the closest he'd ever come to real romance before this was with Axel...and he knew how that had gone.

It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly. A human couple could take for granted that they'd live together for the rest of their lives--but Demyx couldn't, not with Zexion. Everything Zexion said was true. Demyx would grow old and die and Zexion would stay young and beautiful and immortal.

In that case, the solution really was logical--a sick, fucked-up kind of logic, true, but still logical. Zexion couldn't change his vampiric nature...so the only thing possible was for Demyx to change his human nature.

But he couldn't. Couldn't. He might have loved Zexion, but...but he wasn't ready to throw away his humanity to become a vampire. To become a creature he hated. He'd lived twelve years as a slayer and he'd witnessed the horrible actions vampires did--the deaths of Roxas's friends, Xemnas's callous cruelty, even the deaths of his own parents...how could he throw away all his training as a vampire slayer to become what he detested most?

And there was no guarantee it'd work, either. He voiced this thought to Zexion. "Listen...even if I--even if I wanted to, which I don't--who's to say it would work for me? You said it doesn't have a high success rate."

"It should work for you," said Zexion icily. "You are close to the world of vampires--"

"I'm a slayer," protested Demyx.

"You are in love with a vampire," said Zexion, his voice quiet and serious, casting Demyx a pointed glare. "Or so you say."

Or so you say. The words sliced at Demyx's heart; he knew exactly what Zexion meant. And he wanted to defend himself. "I do love you, Zexion. I do. It's just that I--I don't--I'm not ready to give up my humanity."

"You're an idiot," said Zexion, glaring accusingly at Demyx. Demyx really shouldn't have been affected, since Zexion had called him an idiot countless times before, but this time actually hurt him, wrenching at his heart like a knife. Because the insult this time wasn't a careless, throwaway taunt; it was laden with a hurt more bitter than quinine. Zexion truly thought that by wanting to stay human, Demyx was betraying him.

"I...I'm sorry, Zexy," he stammered, well aware of how weak and worthless the apology was. But he couldn't think of anything else to say, anything that would bridge the gaping canyon of misgivings and visceral emotions between them.

"Shut up," hissed Zexion, his face paling. "Don't apologize, you idiot, when it's clear you don't mean it."

"Zexion..." began Demyx, though he had no idea what he was going to say. Zexion, however, slid off the edge of the desk with the easy grace Demyx had come to expect, landing on the floor and turning away from Demyx. "Zexion, listen, I..."

"Shut up," said Zexion again, looking up and glaring at Demyx--the slayer stumbled back, his heart freezing, as he saw the pain and rage burning beneath the surface of Zexion's exposed dark blue eye. "I want nothing to do with a selfish coward like you."

With one last vindictive glare, he turned and strode away from Demyx, deeper into the library, his shirttails flapping behind him like mocking flags. Demyx stood stunned and glued to the spot, his face hot with shame and fury and sorrow. He wanted to move but couldn't, not just because his muscles were frozen, but because...

Because he told himself that if he didn't move, everything would stay the same. Nothing would have changed, nothing would have turned for the worst, between him and Zexion. The earth would have stood still.

When he saw the mug of warm blood resting on the bedstand in his room, Zexion immediately snatched it so hard he sloshed half of it out, and then flushed the other half down the toilet. He knew he'd regret it, and his stomach was already giving pangs of hunger at smelling the hot, coppery blood, but his more fierce and vindictive side was blinding him to reason. He just wanted to do something--something--to repudiate the entire rotting and hypocritical world of humanity Demyx stood for. Getting rid of the stale food from the blood bank seemed as good a start as any.

His task accomplished, he flung himself to the bed, glaring at the ceiling. He was too angry to rest, though, and anyway night was falling so by all means he should be awake. He stood up and began pacing, arms folded and head down, occasionally stopping to drive his fist into the wall. Usually, he wan't given to such violent tendencies, but it felt good to vent the rage he'd been left with after he'd stormed away from Demyx.

That complete idiot. What a hypocrite, what a fool. Exactly like any other human. Zexion really shouldn't have been expecting anything more, but still, beyond all reason, he'd held on to the hope that Demyx was different. That he could see both sides. After all, it took an extraordinary kind of human to cradle a vampire in his arms, and whisper with such confidence, "I love you..."

But that was not to be. Demyx had turned out as irrational and prejudiced as any human. Stupid of Zexion, thinking that Demyx could ever be something more. He slid down against the wall, burying his face in his arms and shaking with pained gasps--not quite sobs, he wouldn't descend to that point.

What an idiot he'd been. Thinking that Demyx would want to stay with him forever...of course he'd wouldn't. He'd become tired eventually of a lover who stayed perpetually a teenager in body, a lover who was too clingy, too--what was the word Demyx used?--obsessed.

Obsession and love, what's the difference, anyhow? he thought bitterly. If I'm protecting him either way, what does it matter?

A few rooms down, he could hear Axel pacing and muttering like the demented idiot he was. Zexion had been listening to Axel's sulking for the better part of half an hour, ever since he'd entered the room. At first, he'd heard Axel and Roxas talking together--it sounded like they were arguing about, go figure, Axel rendering them any help. Zexion had to admire the boy for even trying, since it was clear that nothing would persuade Axel.

Still...the slayer's constant grumblings and cursing were beginning to grate on Zexion's nerves. If the man wasn't going to help them, would it kill him to be quiet about it? He was such a self-righteous whiner; Zexion could see where Demyx got it from.

He dug his claws into his temple so hard he drew blood, but didn't care--all he wanted was for the sounds of Axel's continued muttering to stop so he could focus on his own thoughts instead of "Goddamn fucking suicidal idiots, goddamn vampire, brainwashing them all, hope he rots in hell--"

Nice man, that Axel.

Finally, Zexion decided he could take no more. He surged to his feet, prepared to storm out of his room and march down the hall and throw Axel's door open and start yelling at the slayer to shut the hell up if he wasn't going to make himself useful. As he made his way to the door, though, an idea rose in his head, borne on by Axel grumbling, "Fucking incubus, he had to have seduced them all, Axel and Roxas and fuck, I bet the old man too, little whore--"

He stopped in place, something akin to cold triumph surging through his veins.

It couldn't...what were the chances...what if it failed...but if it worked...

Slowly, the rising triumph began to displace his anger and upset over the argument with Demyx. He straightened, a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. True, both Axel and Demyx seemed to think him as a poor planner who only thought about what benefited himself without considering the repercussions, but this...this...even they would have to admit it was a good plan. He realized he might have finally found a solution for the quandary that had been plaguing them for the past two days, ever since DiZ had offered them the choice of fighting his war for him.

The answer was plain as day--one acceptable to all parties involved. It might not have been answer that Axel would like, and it definitely wasn't the one DiZ would like, but that didn't matter, did it? At the very least, if they had even the semblance of brains, there was no way either of them could very well protest it.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Zexion threw open the door and stepped into the hall.

Yay, cliffhangers galore!

Anyway, about the argument scene: I'm very glad it ended up the way it did becuse quite honestly, in the original plan, the scene would have been very Twilight-esque--Demyx wanting to be turned, Zexion refusing. I switched the roles around not just because I want as little to do with Twilight as possible, but because it made more sense to me, and was more fitting with either of their characters. Zexion would pick the option more "logical" to him, while Demyx would be more conscientious. I'm betting we can all agree the argument turned out all the more better for that.

Anyway, the next chapter, "Faith", features a Zemyx sex scene! Though not until the very end...so I haven't written it yet. It will be the last sex scene in the story, if my current planning holds out, so you have that to look forward to. Meanwhile, here's the preview:

Shit,

a tiny part of him thought, worried that what had happened last time was repeating itself--namely, that Axel had taken irrevocable control of the encounter--but he only had to look up and into Axel's eyes to see that it wasn't true. There was none of the cold, icy intention there'd been last time, hardening Axel's eyes like frozen emeralds; instead, their green surfaces were clouded like mist shrouding a forest, ablaze with unabashed, animalistic lust. Zexion allowed himself to breathe easier, content that he still had Axel under his control. Once he removed the thinking part of the slayer's mind, he had nothing to fear--the visceral part of Axel's self was all too easy to manipulate, as he'd learned to his great joy that time in the study when he'd called Axel out on the man's truly monstrous nature.

We're nearing the end--only seven chapters (plus an epilogue) to go! Keep on encouraging me with your wonderful reviews.